


In Crimson They Touched

by stepOnMeZenos



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blindfolds, Bloodplay, Bondage, Bottom Zenos yae Galvus, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dom/sub, Dominant Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Graphic Description of Zenos' eyelashes, Kinky, Knifeplay, M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scratching, Submissive Zenos yae Galvus, Top Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 16:39:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16067111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepOnMeZenos/pseuds/stepOnMeZenos
Summary: Had anyone suggested to him that the crown prince of Garlemald, this haughty, imperious man, would ask—nay, demand to submit to him, he would have laughed them out of town. And yet here he was, having agreed to such a proposal for reasons he himself didn't quite understand.





	In Crimson They Touched

**Author's Note:**

> Dominant Zenos is good, I thought to myself, but I also like submissive Zenos and I wish there was more of it. Someone should write submissive Zenos, I thought to myself.
> 
> This makes absolutely no sense when it comes to the timeline... but hey! Porn!
> 
> Many thanks to Jerevinan for helping me edit!

The sight of Zenos yae Galvus naked, on his knees strung up by his wrists and blindfolded was oddly enticing, and something R'zhayo had never expected to see. Had anyone suggested to him that the crown prince of Garlemald, this haughty, imperious man, would ask—nay, _demand_ to submit to him, he would have laughed them out of town.

And yet here he was, having agreed to such a proposal for reasons he himself didn't quite understand. Mayhap it was merely that the man was beautiful in his own right; terrible, yes, cruel, certainly, but beautiful. Endless strands of blond hair cascaded down his back (and oh, if his fingers didn't _itch_ to bury themselves in them) and below the hulking armor the man had shed shortly after crossing his doorstep, his body would have put the works of the great sculptures of yore to shame. Those _muscles_ … 

He placed a solitary finger on Zenos' wrist, just below the handcuff, and traced a path down his arm, across his shoulder and then up the side of his neck, then lingered with the tip of his finger lightly touching his jaw. 

There was something exceedingly strange about gently caressing someone who had tried to murder him not too long ago. Strange, but not unappealing. 

Throughout all this, Zenos had shown little reaction. A soft exhale at the touch, perhaps even a little twitch, but nothing more. Apparently he had to try harder to coax a response out of him. 

R'zhayo removed his hand and knelt down in front of Zenos. Gods, this man was tall. He had to crane his head up to see his face. Being towered over like this brought thoughts into his head, thoughts that he would perchance bring up if they had a chance to repeat what was about to happen—

—but not today. Today, he had different plans. 

He ran a hand through Zenos' hair (so soft, so silky, so _unlike him_ ) and then, without warning, grabbed a handful and yanked his head down to kiss him. Zenos didn't resist, simply allowed himself to be pulled down. Their lips met, and R'zhayo allowed his eyes to fall shut. It had been far too long since he'd found the time for something like this, and this… oh, this was _good_. Having this level of control over Zenos made his heart beat faster, and the way he gasped when he bit down on his lip not quite hard enough to draw blood… It made his own breath hitch. Such a wonderful sound. 

He let go of Zenos' hair and broke the kiss. “Judging from how you reacted just now, I take it you like feeling teeth, hmm?“ 

“Yours, yes.“ Zenos' tone was level, almost bored, but there was an edge to his voice, a certain breathlessness that betrayed how much what was happening affected him. 

“Ah, but of course you do,“ R'zhayo said. “How did you put it? 'To bite down on my jugular, to let the warmth fill your mouth and run over even as you drink deep?'“

He pressed his lips against Zenos' throat. “Maybe that's what I'll do. Would you like that?“ 

A shiver ran through Zenos' body; close as they were, chest flush against chest, R'zhayo felt it firsthand. With a smirk, he nipped at the man's throat, lightly, enough to feel but not enough to cause marks. In response, Zenos angled his head to allow him better access, and so R'zhayo obliged, running his lips over pale skin, biting down here and there with ever increasing force until the indentations stayed. Before long, Zenos groaned in response, as if the length poking R'zhayo's stomach wasn't enough of an indication that he enjoyed what was happening. The feeling was rather mutual. He could feel himself grow hard as well. 

On a hunch, he reached out and raked a claw down Zenos' spine. Zenos pressed his back against his hand, causing the claw to dig in even deeper. The result was a deep scratch extending all the way from his neck down to his hips. It wasn't quite bleeding. Not yet. 

Between this and the bite marks, Zenos looked downright delicious. So delicious that R'zhayo couldn't resist; he leaned over and added a second scratch, this time from right shoulder to left hip. 

“I could decorate you like this all night,“ R'zhayo said, and then took a moment to sink his teeth into his shoulder again. A low moan was his reward. “But I think I'll move on to a _different_ attraction now...“ 

He drew himself up and kissed Zenos again, complete with nibbling, and then withdrew to reach for the knife lying on his nightstand. Zenos had wanted him to use the sword. Thank gods he'd been able to talk him down to this. He'd never be able to wield that oversized thing with enough precision. 

He took a moment to study Zenos' face, or what was visible of it below the blindfold. Parted lips and flushed cheeks made for a good look on him, indeed…

“Are you guessing where I'll put this to use first? Which part of your body—“ he pressed the blunt side of the blade against his stomach, “—is going to bleed first? Or perhaps you have any requests?“

“Far be it for me to interfere with an artist whose canvas I've agreed to be. Now come. I grow tired of waiting. Carve your mark into me, paint me in red...“ Zenos' voice had taken on a husky tone, a low rumbling from the depths of his chest interrupted by deep inhales. R'zhayo's own breath hitched. He'd found his voice pleasing to the ear before, at least when it wasn't muffled by that helmet, but this… this new tone of his was downright arousing. Figuring out how to make it happen more often promised to be fun in its own right… 

“You'd order me around? From your position? Tsk. If you can't behave, I don't know why I should give you your reward.“ R'zhayo withdrew the knife and placed it back on the nightstand, making sure to do it loudly so Zenos would hear. 

“I'm beginning to understand why you suggested these restraints. If I were free, you'd quickly come to regret making me wait.“ 

“Ah, but you aren't free, now are you? Does it frustrate you, having to adhere to my pace regardless of what _you_ want?“ R'zhayo placed a hand where the blade had been moments ago and began tracing his muscles. “Hmm… you feel really nice to the touch. Do you want to know what I think? I think this _excites_ you. It thrills you that you can not only not see what I'm about to do to you next, but that you also can't do anything about it… Must be a novel feeling for you, being at someone else's mercy.“

“Much as I've grown weary of hearing you talk, I can't deny that there's a certain… allure to what you described, one I had not expected to find today.“

“I can't believe you out of all people are complaining about me talking too much, after all the theatre-worthy monologues you dropped on me.“ R'zhayo snorted and then grabbed the knife again. “But, as you behaved and gave me a nice, honest answer, I suppose I might as well...“ 

Zenos stilled when the tip touched his shoulder, even held his breath, which was probably for the best. R'zhayo had tested the blade beforehand, and it was fiendishly sharp. One wrong movement and it would sink into flesh like butter. 

Trust Zenos to completely forgo anything even remotely resembling safety. Knowing him, talking about that right now would just turn him on even more. 

R'zhayo filed that thought away for possible later use.

Then he lightly drew the knife downwards. A single droplet of blood trickled out of the wound, nay, a scratch really, and pooled in the crook of Zenos' collarbone. He waited for him to draw a shaky breath, then put the blade down once more, cutting a larger gash just above the first one. This time, the blood steadily trickled out and ran down towards his chest. 

Zenos' low, drawn out moan reached R'zhayo's ears as he bent down to lap at the blood, dragging his tongue all the way up from his nipple to the cut. The coppery taste filled his mouth and he licked his lips. This wasn't bad. This wasn't bad at all. Perhaps, in the future, they'd do this with the roles reversed—though if the other Scions knew he seriously considered that idea, they'd declare him out of his mind.

Not that they hadn't done so before. 

He mirrored the two cuts on the other side and simultaneously reached down to close his hand around Zenos' length. And what an impressive one it was, matching his general size. R'zhayo entertained a vision of lying under Zenos and taking it all, until the man started bucking into his hand. Well. If he wanted more stimulation, that could be arranged… 

He brought the knife up to his throat. Zenos went still, even as R'zhayo stroked him softly. Higher and higher the blade went, forcing Zenos' chin upwards until there was no more room left. The tip ever so gently brushed against skin. If either of them moved even a little, it would cut. 

“I could kill you right now.“ R'zhayo looked Zenos up and down, making sure his hand didn't budge. Such a pleasing contrast, the red rivulets against pale skin. He raised his other hand and drew bloody swirls on his chest. 

“It wouldn't take any effort. You've sharpened this well. Just a little bit of pressure, and you'd bleed out in no time.“ 

Zenos swallowed. R'zhayo didn't pull the blade back in time, and a fifth trickle of blood joined the ones across his shoulders in running down his chest. 

“And you love every second of it. Don't even bother denying it, it's obvious how aroused you are. I don't even need to see your face to tell.“ 

He _wanted_ to see his face though, he realised. He wanted to see those eyes as blue as crystal clouded with lust, so different from the usual bored or indifferent expression, much closer to what he had looked like when they'd faced off in the Royal Menagerie… 

His hand left Zenos' chest and pulled off the cloth. Zenos' eyes were wide open, pupils dilated, his gaze fixed on the ceiling but clearly not looking at it at all. The sudden change in lighting made him blink rapidly, and a disoriented expression graced his face. 

R'zhayo lowered the blade and guided Zenos' head downwards along with it until they could look each other in the eye. Zenos' eyes were unfocused even now.

Having the power to put Zenos— _Zenos!_ —into this state was nothing short of intoxication. Twelve (and Zenos) willing, they would be doing this again. 

R'zhayo carefully removed the knife and placed it back on the nightstand. Zenos' head swivelled as his gaze followed the movement and a small measure of clarity slowly returned to his face.

“Don't bother trying to convince me to cut you even more,“ R'zhayo said as he reached up and unhooked the cuff tying Zenos' wrists together. His arms fell, and with a low groan he rolled his shoulders. It wasn't the most comfortable position to be tied up in, but R'zhayo _had_ asked beforehand… 

“I had—“ Zenos trailed off and then started again. “I had no intention to do so. I stand by what I said.“ 

“Good, because this has turned me on as much as it did you, and unlike you I'm not going to get off on it.“ R'zhayo put a hand on Zenos' chest, relishing the feeling of heartbeat under flushed skin for a moment, and then pushed him on his back. Zenos offered no resistance, simply went along with the motion. 

R'zhayo grabbed the bottle of oil he'd prepared and unscrewed it. “You _have_ done this before, right?“

“Yes.“ Zenos' eyes followed his hands as he rubbed a generous helping on himself. 

“Hey now, don't tell me all the dirty details. Here, raise yourself up for a moment...“ When Zenos did as he asked, he shoved a cushion under him. “There. Much easier to access.“ 

He ran his hands up Zenos' inner thigh, leaving oil stains on his skin, until he reached his groin and lightly rested his claws on his balls. For a moment, neither of them moved; R'zhayo enjoyed Zenos' heavy breathing, and Zenos himself stared up at him, almost seeming to dare him to do it… 

But he wasn't about to break his own toys.

He lifted up one of Zenos' legs and with his other hand aligned himself with him. As he slowly pushed inside and moaned at the feeling of heat all around him, Zenos' brows furrowed in what was an obvious look of discomfort. R'zhayo stopped, even though he itched to sink himself all the way into that beautiful, beautiful man, but a scowl quickly replaced the discomfort and the way Zenos thrust his hips at him made it perfectly clear just _what_ he thought of pausing.

“My, you're eager. I'll be nice and do as you wish.“ R'zhayo settled into a comfortable rhythm of slow but firm thrusts. Their positions gave him a perfect view of Zenos and all the lovely red patterns on him; the spirals he'd drawn, the droplets running down and now pooling in the dips of those gorgeous muscles, mixing with the sweat already glistening on his skin… 

It made him almost painfully hard as he continued driving into Zenos, as did his moans. Ragged breaths, coming from deep within his massive chest, they sounded so… wonderful. Intoxicating. 

“What would your soldiers say if they could see you right now, so keen on lying with the Warrior of Light?“ he said, voice far more breathless than he'd expected, and then closed his eyes to savour the sensation (and because Zenos' staring was starting to become unsettling). Despite his previous assurances, Zenos could hardly be called loose, and the oil wasn't enough to eliminate all friction. Zenos would find a way to wax poetic about how it felt, but he wasn't Zenos. 

“They would stay quiet, as they should. They know very well that they will lose far more than just their insolent tongues if they displease me… as you will, if you don't pick up the pace.“

R'zhayo rolled his eyes. Unbelievable. He managed to sound bored even while having sex. “Figures you wouldn't just say 'go faster' like a normal person.“ 

Zenos didn't reply. R'zhayo sped up and lost himself in the motion, the pushing and pulling and the way Zenos tightened around him… 

When he cracked open an eye again, he saw Zenos trying his hardest to stroke himself with his still-bound hands, It looked awkward. R'zhayo pushed his hands away and ran his own up and down his shaft. Zenos' head fell back on the pillow, and with a grin R'zhayo gripped him tighter. He was getting close, now. Not much longer and—

Every muscle in Zenos' body seemed to tense, and he clenched down on R'zhayo as his back arched.  
A groan left his lips. The tightness was nigh unbearable. His thrusts lost their rhythm and he bucked into Zenos with wild abandon until, with a choked hiss and a pounding heart, he came inside of him. 

Neither of them moved or said anything for a moment. The only sound was their harsh breathing, until R'zhayo pulled out and collapsed on the bed next to Zenos. 

“Undo these.“

“Oh, right.“ R'zhayo reached over and unlocked the handcuff. 

Zenos didn't reply, merely rubbed his wrists before pulling the cushion out from under himself and tossing it to the side.

R'zhayo rolled over and watched him. The long golden hair spread out over the pillow, seemingly glinting in the candle light. The blood had stained parts of it red. It had also stained parts of the bedding red. Wonderful. He'd just changed it.

“Hold on, I'll go grab supplies to treat that.“ He moved to sit, but Zenos reached up and pulled him down again. Then he wrapped an arm around his waist, too tightly to escape his grip.

“You could have just said no,“ R'zhayo said as he wriggled into a more comfortable position. Twelve, but Zenos was warm. He hadn't noticed before, not even when he'd pressed himself against hist chest, but he was practically a furnace. It was enough to make him purr. Almost on its own, his tail moved up and curled around Zenos' hand. 

If the sound of purring bothered Zenos, he didn't show it. In fact, beyond holding on to him he didn't acknowledge his existence at all. R'zhayo took the chance to observe him further, from closer up than he'd had the chance to before. His third eye seemed to reflect the light, more like a jewel than an organ. His face was at ease, with his eyes closed and his eyelashes contrasting sharply against his pale skin. 

Oh, and what majestic eyelashes they were. Long, lush, and so well-maintained. They curved upwards just so, not a single one of out of place. They were the the kind he'd seen on dancers and others who attempted to dazzle their audience with their looks. Something that Zenos hardly seemed the type for. 

“You're staring.“

“I'm wondering what you use to get eyelashes like that.“ 

Zenos cracked open an eye and looked at him. “I have no need for beauty products.“

“What?“ R'zhayo propped himself up on his elbow. “Poppycock. Are you trying to tell me those are natural?“

Zenos' expression was ever difficult to decipher, but R'zhayo thought he saw a hint of amusement in the way his lips quirked ever so slightly. “I don't particularly care if you believe me or not.“ 

“Good, because I don't.“ R'zhayo rested his head on Zenos' upper arm again. “And I'll get you to tell me one day.“ 

A comfortable silence fell and R'zhayo resumed his purring. Who'd have thought cuddling with Zenos would be so nice? Who'd have thought Zenos was willing to cuddle at all? Well, Zenos-style cuddling, he supposed; cuddling normally didn't involve fingertips digging into his hip to a point where he might find bruises later. 

Not that he minded. 

Just as he started drifting off to sleep, Zenos spoke up again. “In future—ventures of this kind, you may wish to blindfold me fully.“ 

Blindfold him f—

Oh. The third eye. He'd forgotten. 

Confound the Garleans and their blasted third eye. 

“You could see all along?“

“Yes.“

“And you neglected to tell me because…?“

“I was under the impression that you knew what you were doing, and did not consider it necessary.“

R'zhayo prodded him in the ribs. “Ex _cuse_ me, my _prince_ , for not being in the habit of blindfolding Garleans. Yet.“ 

“Implying, of course,“ Zenos said as he reached over and grabbed his wrist with the hand that wasn't currently holding him in a vice grip, “that I will allow you to do it again.“ 

“We both know you will. Feel free to stop pretending otherwise anytime.“ R'zhayo switched to his other hand and continued his prodding. 

And then Zenos abruptly rolled over and flipped him on his back. He propped himself up with one hand and with the other trapped R'zhayo's wrists over his head. (Gods, one hand was enough to hold both of his wrists. Why was this man so freakishly large?) His hair fell over his shoulders and around R'zhayo's head, like a curtain closing in on him. 

“Don't push your luck, _savage_.“

R'zhayo grinned. Annoying Zenos was fun.


End file.
